


Warm hero's soup (if it's the one that can melt my cold breaths), that hero's soup (if that can comfort you)

by charons_boat



Series: The Expansion Packs: Song Stories Edition [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ego, Ego Universe, M/M, Magic system, Persuasion - Freeform, Soup, Strangers to Aquaintances, harmful magic, harmful powers, healing soup, powers, powers that feed off feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charons_boat/pseuds/charons_boat
Summary: The only problem with his mother's soup was that he couldn't make it on his own; he was missing a crucial ingredient.
Relationships: Rem Barbeau/Hanraoi
Series: The Expansion Packs: Song Stories Edition [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765816
Comments: 31
Kudos: 2





	Warm hero's soup (if it's the one that can melt my cold breaths), that hero's soup (if that can comfort you)

**Author's Note:**

> The overall sound/feel of hero's soup reminds me of Rem so... here we are. He's only 6'9" because he doesn't have any connection to the sea in this. in other words, aside from the ego he's just a normal human with extreme genes lol

My mother used to make soup for me. It was red, and always warm, and it had an edge of subtle, pleasant spice to it. Drinking her soup always made me feel better after a long and tiring day, and it was the only thing that could ever make me feel warm after I used my ego. My mother used to tell me that using my ego made me feel so cold and nervous because it took all my good feelings and used them to convince people to do whatever I wanted them to. She told me that I had to be careful when I used it, but I didn't understand why until after she was gone.

Using my ego to persuade people into doing things made me shiver and made me feel like a big, empty space in the world. It hadn't ever bothered me very much, because I always had my mother and her soup to make me feel better. She called it 'hero soup', because I was her little hero. I didn't realize that she was the only person who could make her soup like that, because I hadn't known that she used her ego to make it until I tried it myself. It didn't work. It wasn't the same without her ego. The worst part was that despite the fact that I knew there had to be at least one person out there with an ego like hers, I didn't know what she did with her ego to make the soup. I couldn't find anyone no matter how hard I tried.

I tried not to use my ego, but I couldn't avoid it in little situations. I talked my way out of tickets and into a rent extension, and I persuaded my boss to give me a raise so I could pay my bills on time. The little tremors, results of feeling frozen inside, spread and became stronger. The more I had to use my ego, the more worn out I felt. It began failing me, because I began to run out of good feelings. My ego sucked up all the goodwill and faith I had towards anything and everything, and it left me empty and so, so _cold_ inside.

I tried to hold onto the knowledge that my mother would've told me to keep going, to keep trying, but it got harder. I couldn't even write anything consistently because my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I tried hugging myself for warmth, but when winter came around, the cold air actually felt _warm_. No one asked me what was wrong or suggested I go to a doctor, and I wondered whether it was because they knew why I was always shaking or because they didn't care.

Until suddenly, someone did. Though the way the brunet asked made it sound like he was annoyed by my shaking, I immediately took it as concern and latched onto that.

"Hey. Why are you shaking so much? You look like a tree in the wind," he asked, sounding like he didn't really care about the answer. I figured that maybe the last part was supposed to be a joke about my height, but I ignored it.

"My ego does this to me," I told him.

"Damn, your voice is deep. It really doesn't match that pretty face of yours," he told me. He stayed quiet for a moment. "Do you not have a healer of some kind to help fix this?" I shook my head.

"Not anymore. My mother used to make soup for me. She called it 'hero soup'." The short memory that cropped up brought a small smile to my lips. "Drinking it used to make me feel all warm and happy. I've tried making it, but I can't. It doesn't work the same because I don't have her ego." The man's eyes softened, and he sat down on a bench. When he patted the seat next to him, I took it.

"First question, just out of curiosity, is how tall are you?"

"I'm six foot nine," I responded. He whistled and looked away.

"Look, I'm gonna tell you something, but you can't tell anyone. They'll send me to the army if they find out," he whispered. I had to strain my ears to hear what he was saying. I nodded. He leaned closer, putting a hand on my arm to steady himself. "I can do the same thing your mom did. I'll help you out. I work with a group of other ego-users like you. Luckily, mine doesn't affect me very much. You don't have to meet any of the others and I don't have to tell them about you, but I can make soup for you." I couldn't stop the smile that spread over my lips, so I covered it with my hand instead. I nodded happily.

"Thank you. Maybe I can meet them someday, but for now… I'd rather just stay at my house, out of whatever trouble I'm sure you guys get into, and try to live the way I have been," I told him, keeping my mouth covered. He nodded and smiled.

"But with soup this time, right," he asked.

"With soup this time," I agreed. He stood up and stood in front of me, holding out his hand.

"My name is Hanraoi," he told me. I took his hand carefully and shook it. His hand was smaller than mine, though I thought it was probably bigger than most people's.

"I'm Rem Barbeau. I'll head home now. You can follow if you'd like, so you know where to bring the soup," I told him. He nodded. I started walking and he followed behind. We stayed quiet for a long while.

"Tell me about how your mom made it," he asked. I smiled and started telling the story of a well-worn memory.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to scream at me about my asylum bois i love them. especially rem. he's my literal child. i'm on twt @catfacekathryn and i have a discord, hit me up in the comments if you want my discord


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